Sad news The poet Esiaba Irobi (photographed by me above in London on 1 April 2006) has died. He passed away last night in Berlin. This is all we know, for now.
This is soooo sad...I never met him, but I really looked forward to meeting him. His plays inspired me. Esiaba was one of the finest writers with a strong political voice,highly revered in my drama department. This is a big loss really.
Kelechi Esiaba's Sister Words can't discribe this moment in our life. This is the cruels cut in our life as a family, it can never be the same again. My joy and happiness is that he died in Christ Jesus. Your wife Uloaku, Son Sampson and your two brothers and five sisters still believe you are still with us.
Dede Esiaba you taught me to write, watch plays, drama, and appreciate poem. You are a candle in the dark and your light will shine forever. You are like oxygen in the air, your presence is felt everywhere. you the born comedian, orator, and movitator. you filled alot of gaps, gave your life to love people, you had the heart of a child, you were too good to be true. You did not die early, you completed your mission on earth too soon.I know you touched a lot of hearts. You still inspire me even in death, how could I have known that when we spoke last sunday,that the things you asked me to do for myself were your last words to me in person. Thank you God for my brother, enjoy him.
my dear uncle you taught me to always complete my words when writing.i still find it hard to believe you are gone we are still waiting for you here.your nephew Ahunna.
De Esiaba why May 4th, the very day our beloved mothered ended her live here on earth.I am yet to believe that.... Remember, you told Da Martha about folk tales. As usual your car had a problem,you are on the road to umuakpara, umuakatawom and owoahiafor.
Enyima, The world, that is the name we share since childhood. Where are you? Let me know so I can come and get you like I did when we were children. Who ever wants you will have to go through me first. Enyima you left too soon. You have been snatch by a force tougher than human and am sure your work here on earth is done. Watch over your siblings and friends, you gave us a good entertainment and heavens need you more.We will miss you very dearly. Night shift, your too young for night shift.
I shall miss you, my friend. I remember our days in the corridors of Tisch, the long chats, the meals together, the discussions on colonialism, comparative case studies, how you quenched my curiosities about Nigeria and I met yours about India and Bengal, the way you made your drums 'talk' in my play, the way you allowed me in to watch you rehearse Soyinka's play with the (mostly white!) American kids... I can go on. But what, sadly, won't go on is your life.... And you were so full of life! How did this happen? Why? Who needed you so much thet you had to be snatched from us like this? There is no God; but if there is one, I hate IT for this heinous crime. 49 was no age for the Grand Exit.... I am mad.
Upon my arrival at New York University (NYU) School of Law in 1999 as a visiting professor in residence, I was told about a fellow Nigerian, Professor Irobi at Tisch School of the Arts. I qickly looked him up, and we met many times thereafter until he left NYU. Dr. Irobi, you were a good man, too good to be lost that soon. Since May 2010! May your soul rest in perfect peace, AMEN. Ifem
...FAREWELL, GREAT MENTOR I never knew you in person and that's why your parting grieves me the more. After gulping down your first collection of poems, 'Inflorescence', in May 2011, I took up the project of finding and finishing all your published works, and I did. My next project became to meet you in person, so I sought the help of google for pieces of information that could aid my quest... Sadly, google informed me that Irobi, my icon, had taken the path of dust a year earlier. I wept and wept and wept and wept, as I gradually began to accept the fact that I would no longer meet the man I so much dreamt and still dream of. Farewell, great mentor.
This is soooo sad...I never met him, but I really looked forward to meeting him. His plays inspired me. Esiaba was one of the finest writers with a strong political voice,highly revered in my drama department. This is a big loss really.
ReplyDeleteThe unkindest cut of all. Goodnight, Esiaba.
ReplyDeleteHe was the professor that had the most influence on me as a writer. He was full of life, drama and laughter. I will miss him terribly.
ReplyDeleteKelechi Esiaba's Sister
ReplyDeleteWords can't discribe this moment in our life. This is the cruels cut in our life as a family, it can never be the same again. My joy and happiness is that he died in Christ Jesus.
Your wife Uloaku, Son Sampson and your two brothers and five sisters still believe you are still with us.
Dede Esiaba you taught me to write, watch plays, drama, and appreciate poem. You are a candle in the dark and your light will shine forever. You are like oxygen in the air, your presence is felt everywhere. you the born comedian, orator, and movitator. you filled alot of gaps, gave your life to love people, you had the heart of a child, you were too good to be true. You did not die early, you completed your mission on earth too soon.I know you touched a lot of hearts. You still inspire me even in death, how could I have known that when we spoke last sunday,that the things you asked me to do for myself were your last words to me in person. Thank you God for my brother, enjoy him.
ReplyDeleteDE ESIABA,I MISS YOU DEARLY,I REMEBERED MY LAST DISCUSSION WITH YOU ON PHONE LAST MONTH AND CANT BELIEVE YOU ARE NO MORE.ADEIU,MY PROF.
ReplyDeletemy dear uncle you taught me to always complete my words when writing.i still find it hard to believe you are gone we are still waiting for you here.your nephew Ahunna.
ReplyDeleteHE LIVES THOUGH HE IS DEAD.YOUR SISTER IHUOMA
ReplyDeleteDe Esiaba why May 4th, the very day our beloved mothered ended her live here on earth.I am yet to believe that.... Remember, you told Da Martha about folk tales. As usual your car had a problem,you are on the road to umuakpara, umuakatawom and owoahiafor.
ReplyDeleteBoy, I'm still trying to come to terms with this, to accept this ending. Hopefully, that will come soon and the tears will cease.
ReplyDeleteEnyima, The world, that is the name we share since childhood. Where are you? Let me know so I can come and get you like I did when we were children. Who ever wants you will have to go through me first. Enyima you left too soon. You have been snatch by a force tougher than human and am sure your work here on earth is done. Watch over your siblings and friends, you gave us a good entertainment and heavens need you more.We will miss you very dearly. Night shift, your too young for night shift.
ReplyDeleteI shall miss you, my friend. I remember our days in the corridors of Tisch, the long chats, the meals together, the discussions on colonialism, comparative case studies, how you quenched my curiosities about Nigeria and I met yours about India and Bengal, the way you made your drums 'talk' in my play, the way you allowed me in to watch you rehearse Soyinka's play with the (mostly white!) American kids... I can go on. But what, sadly, won't go on is your life.... And you were so full of life! How did this happen? Why? Who needed you so much thet you had to be snatched from us like this? There is no God; but if there is one, I hate IT for this heinous crime. 49 was no age for the Grand Exit.... I am mad.
ReplyDeleteUpon my arrival at New York University (NYU) School of Law in 1999 as a visiting professor in residence, I was told about a fellow Nigerian, Professor Irobi at Tisch School of the Arts. I qickly looked him up, and we met many times thereafter until he left NYU. Dr. Irobi, you were a good man, too good to be lost that soon. Since May 2010! May your soul rest in perfect peace, AMEN.
ReplyDeleteIfem
...FAREWELL, GREAT MENTOR I never knew you in person and that's why your parting grieves me the more. After gulping down your first collection of poems, 'Inflorescence', in May 2011, I took up the project of finding and finishing all your published works, and I did. My next project became to meet you in person, so I sought the help of google for pieces of information that could aid my quest... Sadly, google informed me that Irobi, my icon, had taken the path of dust a year earlier. I wept and wept and wept and wept, as I gradually began to accept the fact that I would no longer meet the man I so much dreamt and still dream of. Farewell, great mentor.
ReplyDelete